


Remnant

by icylook



Series: Vergil Surana's AUs [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-13 02:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21237014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylook/pseuds/icylook
Summary: "How-," he swallows, "how long?""Over a month," Vergil rasps quietly.





	Remnant

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill Zombies :D
> 
> Tabris OC (still in development) makes an appearance!

There's no real shelter from the pouring rain, and he hides as much as he can under curved vent shaft.

The injury at his arm throbs constantly with piercing pain, one he can't ignore. Every beat of his heart seems to reverberate in the wound.

He glances at the weapon in his hand, held loosely with numb fingers.

Few more hours and he'll see.

Few more hours, before he'll feel the urge to seek out someone, someone living and not infected to bite and-

He exhales shakily, leaning his head forward, staring at the floor in between his knees. Few more hours and he'll stop hearing her screaming.

* * *

It could be the thoughtlessness of both of them, or the creatures were really as clever as they noticed them to be. Not as mindless as everybody thought. Vergil and Saskia observed a pattern to some of the behaviours, and it was as disturbing as it was fascinating.

And in the end they were ambushed in a seemingly clean area. One moment they were exploring it, the next they're swarmed with _them_, fighting their way out.

They kept close to each other, fencing the flesh-thirsty monsters in well practiced fashion, when suddenly a body barrelled into Vergil from the side. The momentum made him collide with nearby trash containers, sending him sprawling on the ground. He lost the grip on the short sword, wheezing for air when _it_ slammed into him, making Vergil struggling greatly with keeping the teeth snapping wildly at his neck away from his skin. By some miracle he was able to put an arm between himself and the throat of his opponent, wrestling for the knife at his hip and plunging it into the base of the skull, the angle wrong, but the sound of cracked bone was like music to his ears and _it_ stopped moving, after it let out a pitful gurgle. There're noises of a fight near him and he saw Saskia being overwhelmed. Vergil crawled from under the limp rotting body, stumbling to a stand, snatching the blade from the ground and going after head of the closest one, the cut a nearly clean one. Repeated it with the next, slashing at its throat, not feeling the bony sharp fingers clawing at his clothes, but-

They got her. He saw it happen, blunt teeth clamping at her shoulder, making her cry out in pain, but she jerked as far as she could in iron hold and fired. The jaws still held at her even when the body went down, taking Saskia with them to the ground. There's next one upon her and Vergil tried to take grab at her-

She managed to swing the barrel of her weapon at _its_ temple, then shot its brains off, the matter spraying at them both, getting into Vergil's hair, face, clothes and he's struggling to bearthe, frantically trying to jerk his arm out from slacked teeth, warm blood running down-

A second, as Vergil looked with horror at Saskia, dread mirrored in their frantic gazes. _They_ didn't lose time and land a hit at her again, clawing at her and she held his eyes for a second longer, mouth open in pained snarl, hands faltering with weapons, and there's a swarm of them from nowhere. She's fighting back again, screaming at him to _"Run, you fool!"_ And he did, shaking off the hands grabbing at him, slashing at what he could reached, only glancing back at her once, at short auburn hair like a beacon in a swarm of tattered clothes and mass of decomposing bodies, and he neared a corner, when a blood chilling scream pierced the air-

_She's being eaten alive_

-and then the ring of a single shot going off.

Vergil ran.

* * *

He barricades himself at the roof, not remembering how he got there and why the heavy doors were open. If there's something out there, he's done for, nowhere to run at this point but jump and pray for quick end.

A hysteric thought bubbles in his mind of ending it _now._ He doesn't have the time. He'll turn into _them_ in less than a day and he doesn't, _doesn't want to die like that-_

Vergil's breath's laboured, he collapses near the door, arm hurting like hell, choking on a shaky sob. Tears are welling in his eyes and he doesn't try to stop them from spilling down his dirty face.

He's shivering, feeling sick, both cold and hot, but he has to tend to the wound and on some miracle he didn't lose his pack through the mad dash. The bitten arm refuses to move properly, and he grits his teeth with short broken gasps. The jacket and shirt are off. Every shift hurts, blood sluggishly oozing from the injury, sticky, and Vergil steels himself to look. An uneven ring of teeth deep in his flesh already started to darken the area and- _oh gods_, dark veins are spreading the bruising, purpling his skin.

He chokes, swallowing the bile in his thraot until he can't and swings to the side, spilling the contents of his stomach with violent coughs.

Vergil waits for a moment until the spasms end, breathing heavily. He isn't looking at the arm, until he manages to wait out the shaking of his body, until he can find some clarity of his mind, full of pain and panic. He's feeling the wound pulsing along with frantic heartbeat and he's amazed it's still in his chest and how he didn't have heart attack. Tending to the wound goes slowly and Vergil does as best as he can, hissing and blinking away the tears, some of them spilling messily – some of _its_ guts are still on him, he thinks with trepidation, as he licks his dry lips catching the taste of vile dried liquid.

And then he waits. Pulls out his weapon. It's just a matter of time. He doesn't even have strength anymore to move elsewhere.

* * *

Vergil loses the sense of time. Seconds or hours later, he's still breathing and thinking, still feeling twinges of pain that're all his world now. He's in and out, sometimes feels the wind on his clammy skin, closes his eyes wishing to just sleep, but the injury's aching so much. He swears he hears her calling for him and then he wakes up with a shrill of a scream, clawing at his chest. He curls on himself as far as he's able to, numb fingers still clutching the weapon.

Few more hours, few more and he'll end it.

He can't move his bitten arm, the skin of his hand has purple veins blackening it. He bites his lip unitl he tastes blood, swallowing it, holding in an inhuman noise of despair. _Before-_

He wakes up with a gasp, in a puddle of something smelly, greedily hauling the air through the open mouth. Vergil can't tell if he's cold or not, chilled to the bone by the damp clothes clinging to his form. He lies there, staring at the yellowish puddle and concrete until he finds the strength to move. The light hurts his eyes, and he holds himself above the mess with an elbow, banging his back on the wall behind as he sits up.

His mind seems to be unusually clear, and he feels weak, but like he went too long without food or water, or pushed himself too hard. Then he scrabbles for his pack for water and drinks, drinks until the bottle is empty and, as he glances at his bitten arm his eyes nearly bulge out of its sockets. The purple veins are nearly transparent, darkened skin gone and the pain, he doesn't feel the insane pain anymore, only the dull bruising of an injury. He tries to move the fingers and they do, if not with slight difficulty, like he twisted them and now the feelings back to them. And when he unwinds the makeshift bandages, the wound looks like it starts healing, still raw and angry. But. Healing.

* * *

The area Vergil's travelling at is suspiciously deserted. He was sure there's a community here, but it seems abandoned. And his hope skyrockets again when he sees a movement, wishing it a living person only to see few of the infected, walking slowly towards him. He freezes in the middle of wide alley, eyes darting around the walls looking for something to pull himself up on. Vergil doesn't want to test the theory he had lately, not as close, not with more than one of them, but he has little choice. Running will only make this worse, so he tries to keep still, shifting slightly, hand crawling to his short sword. He ran out of ammunition week ago. Cold sweat runs down his back, and he's watching the disgusting creatures shuffling awkwardly forward, looking almost lost, letting out growls and grunts.

The smell of them almost makes Vergil gag when they near him, and one of them pauses few steps before him, taking a sniff and Vergil's so close to lose it, knuckles of his fingers white on the blade handle, when the creature huffs, and steps around him. Others ignore him as well, straggling along, so slowly he could take them out, with their backs to him. But he waits until they are out of sight, feeling the muscles of his shoulders almost snapping under the stress of keeping still and he literally jumps at the sudden noise. The grind of rusty ladder hitting the ground from the fire escape, and he looks up then down the alley _they_ disappeared, fearing the sound lures them back.

"Get on it!" The man on the fire landing urges him to, and Vergil doesn't think much before he scrapes at the handle and goes up.

Moment later he's standing in poorly lit flat, though he can see few more people standing in a distance, looking at ease but he's sure they just wait for him to try anything funny. The blond man before him looks at Vergil with bright brown eyes, like he's seeing something _wondrous_.

"Show me your wound," he blurts and Vergil just stares at him, not sure he heard him right, "What?"

The man runs hand through his short hair. "Your wound, you have one, yes?" He's looking at him with hopeful expression. He's so easy to read, in contrary to others who look at him like he's an interesting bug, nothing more. Through when Vergil glances at the other blond man, he meets an easy grin.

"You ask a man to take off his clothes, and you don't even know his name," he drawls with amusement, his smirk growing, "or gave yours. Poor manners, my friend. I've taught you better than that."

The blond sputters a bit, grumbling, before he shakes his head, stepping closer to Vergil with an outstretched hand. "You've been bitten, yes?" Vergil stares at the hand, ignoring it, then at the man. The man huffs and drops it at his side. "I'm Alistair, and they are-"

"Zevran, nice to meet you, stranger," the other blond almost purrs holding Vergil's gaze.

"-my _friends_," Alistair stresses the word glaring at Zevran, "Who will make their introductions later. But," the man starts to undo his belt and Vergil startles, shifting his stance, "Ah, no, I, don't mean to-," he sounds a bit flustered as he struggles with the clothes at his hips, exposing the patch of skin. And Vergil glances at it, the smooth tanned skin deformed with scar of teeth, faint darker veins surrounding it. He's staring and almost touches the skin when someone clears their throat. "You have the same thing, yes?" He looks up and is meeting the hopeful brown stare, and he nods. In a moment he has his arm exposed, and the silence around them seems to vibrate.

"You're the same," Alistair whispers as he looks at neatly healed marks.

"How-," he swallows, "how long?"

"Over a month," Vergil rasps quietly.

"Half a year," Alistair lets go of his clothes, covering the mark on his hip. "They ignore you, just as we saw earlier." Vergil nods, holding the man's gaze. Alistair's shoulders sag, he looks relieved. He barks a laugh and it makes Vergil startle, and there's a warm chuckle from Zevran.

"There's so much I want to ask... I- Would you mind if we talked about it?" He pauses reading Vergil's silence as hesitation. "You can stay with us for as long as you want." Alistair waits for his reaction a bit longer, almost holding his breath. He nods, and the smile he's given is so bright he's almost blinded by it. "Let's go with proper introductions, yes? I'm Alistair."

This time he shakes the outstretched hand, his clasp sure. "Vergil."


End file.
